


Come Up and See Me Sometime

by seventhTense



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: But towards the end though, Frotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Perceptive Boys Who Notice Too Much, Pleasant Little Pancake Boy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, So optional plot I guess, Talkative Akira, Until there suddenly is nothing but plot, boys being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhTense/pseuds/seventhTense
Summary: Akira is feeling very, very stressed out. Goro makes a suggestion. Things escalate from there.





	Come Up and See Me Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something for P5 since I played it last April, then got the inspiration from a little scenario I played out in my head one morning to actually put words to text document, and now we're here. 
> 
> Happy Valentines Day!

Akira Kurusu was feeling... tense. In a weird way, a weird... combination of ways.

Firstly, he was tense because Akechi was there, sitting across from him in one of Leblanc’s comfortable-if-a-couple-years-behind-on-a-needed-reupholstering booths, face concentrated and the tip of his tongue poking adorably out of the corner of his lips, intensely focused on their weekly chess match, but somehow relaxed enough to let his guard and stiff-upper-lip down a little at the same time. Cute, yeah, obviously, but also stressful because, well, this was Goro Akechi, cheating hottie extraordinaire, an absolute dreamboat by Akira’s standards, and a potentially **_very_ **dangerous enemy by the Phantom Thieves’ standards, if his oblivious confession to his knowledge of the metaverse and subsequent months of undeniably suspicious activity were anything to go by.

But, again, that wasn’t the only reason Akira was tense, which was the entire problem, he supposed. It had been a few days since their most recent foray into Futaba Sakura’s palace, and while he couldn’t 100% relate to what she went through, the jeering and unadulterated hatred that the disembodied minds they were so frequently subjected to were just similar enough to the shit Akira gone through back in his home town to leave him unable to relax for days and days after hearing them.

To make things worse, Kawakami had been forced to bow out of her now-weekly massage session the other day, something he had become not just accustomed to, but heavily dependant on as of late in order to de-tense. Add in a sprinkling of being a legitimate wanted criminal now, having the potential ruin of Japan’s economy looming over him, and the overarching, omnipresent stress of having stumbled face-first into a weird, magical world full of life-threatening dangers his first gods-damned week in Tokyo, and Akira was left a very keyed-up young man indeed.

Put it simply, shit sucked, and it was really, _really_ getting to him.

...and there was another thing, but he flushed red even _thinking_ about that part, and he definitely didn’t want to do that here, now, in front of Goro Motherfucking Akechi. Better to have Goro blinking curiously at him like he was now than give him a reason to get up in his space to ‘see what was wrong,’ and ‘make sure you don’t have a fever, Kurusu-kun, we wouldn’t want Tokyo’s newest grandmaster of chess getting ill so close to his next all-important qualifying match with yours truly, ahaha,’ and ‘yes, I can joke too, Kurusu-kun, don’t look so surprised, now stop resisting and let me take a good, close look at you,’ and ‘my my, you really are burning up, let me help you upstairs, so I can take care of you properly,’ and holy **_fUCK_ **he was playing out one of his frequent Goro-fantasies in his head _**right in front of the man**_ and Goro was _still_ staring at him _**why is he staring like that and Why Don’t You Say Something About It Akira, Fuck, Fuck, FUCK-**_

“Kurusu-kun, you’re... muttering really quite effusively to yourself over there. Is everything quite alright?” Goro derailed his train of thought, mercifully, his head tilted to one side like it always was when he was either curious or being a faux-innocent piece of shit. Usually both. Probably both.

Normally, Akira would be able to easily brush off any concern, whether it be from one of his friends, Morgana, or the very rare raised-eyebrow-of-worry from Sojiro. But this was Goro, subject of his crush and some of his many and varied fears, and he was tired and tense and annoyed and exhausted and yeah, honestly, yeah, maybe for once he could just... not be okay.

He faceplanted on the table, chess pieces bumping around from the impact and his glasses going askew on his face. “Nothing’s alright. Everything sucks. I’m fine, probably.”

He could _hear_ Akechi smirk at that. “Are we playing a guessing game now, or is this your version of a choose-your-own-adventure novel?”

Akira rolled his eyes, a pointless gesture considering he was face-down on the table at the moment, but it made him feel good at least, so fuck it. “More like a shitty visual novel, without any sexy CG’s at the end as a reward for slogging through it.”

That got a genuine, surprised chuckle from Akechi, a warm feeling sparking briefly in Akira’s gut at the accomplishment. “My goodness, Kurusu-kun. Here I thought you were a studious, bookish honor student, what with your multiple part time jobs and how quickly you picked up a fairly complicated game such as chess,” he quipped, never one to shy away from an opportunity to show off his skills at observation or stalking, apparently. “I never would have dreamed you held such... lascivious hobbies in your spare time.”

Akira slowly pried himself off of the table, shaking his head tiredly as he reached for the cup of coffee on his side of the table. It was empty, drained probably in one go back at the start of the game, and he knew from experience that going for Goro’s cup would only earn him a sharp smack on the hand, so he just sighed and righted his glasses with a finger. “No spare time anymore. No consoles or computers that would run a VN anyways, but it’s a moot point I guess.”

Goro stroked his chin with his fingers as he leaned back, looking only more curious now. Oh boy. “Hmm. Unfortunate... but you said you had no spare time _anymore_ , correct? That implies you used to have the time for it-”

Akira interrupted him with a sigh, too tired and annoyed at life to deal with Goro sorting his way molasses-slow through every goddamned thing he said. “Before I moved to Tokyo, yeah. They were a good way to pretend like I still had people who cared about me, after the assault charge, and before that, they were a good... stress reliever.” He lowered his voice towards the end, cautious of Sojiro pretending (poorly) not to listen on the other side of the room. “When I could find them, at least. It’s not that hard to get R18 stuff underage, off the internet and stuff, but my mom liked checking my web history, so...”

Goro’s eyes were sparkling when Akira glanced up at them, clearly amused. “My my my, Kurusu-kun. You know, admitting to looking at such things underaged to an officer of the law might not be the smartest thing you’ve done in your life.”

_Buddy, that doesn’t even come close to the stupidest shit I’ve done in my life._ Out loud, Akira just drawled a dry “What’re you gonna do, Officer, cuff me?”

Another blithe chuckle as Goro shook his head. “I’m afraid I left my handcuffs in my other pants today.”

“Shame.”

“You almost sound like you’d want me to cuff you, Kurusu-kun.”

He shrugged. “Would be pretty hot, yeah.”

...

Aw fuck.

Goro blinked slowly as Akira felt his face redden at what he just said. The table was quickly seeming like an excellent place to smash his face against again, or, better yet, hide beneath until he melted into a puddle of goo, never to be seen or heard from again after Sojiro would unceremoniously mop him up and dump him into the sewers where he belonged-

“I take it,” Goro began, once again derailing his train of thought, as if he was particularly well-versed in the practise. “From that... slip of the tongue, shall we say, that you haven’t had much of an opportunity to... engage in ‘stress relievers’ recently, eh Kurusu-kun?”

Faceplanting onto the table it was then. “Shut up,” he grumbled, the sound muffled by both hardwood and his own mortification.

Akechi snorted at that, which was almost surprising enough to shock Akira out of his despair, but not quite. “It’s a logical deduction. Though honestly, I’m not sure why you haven’t. These days, such... materials are quite readily avaliable, regardless of one’s age, as long as they possess the most basic of technological literacy. You do have a phone capable of accessing the internet, don’t you?”

Slowly, he lifted his head up just a few degrees, enough to raise a critical eyebrow at Akechi, the detective sputtering a little in response. “What? I- I certainly don’t indulge in such things myself, of course, but I’m not oblivious or innocent enough not to know such things exist.”

Akira smiled at that, raising up fully and shaking his head. “Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.” His face quickly reddening, Akechi looked ready to protest further, but Akira held up his hand. “But no, that’s not the issue. It’s more, uhm...” He looked over his shoulder towards the stairs in the back of the cafe. The open stairs, that anybody could walk up at any time, or, potentially worse, listen from the bottom of, unobstructed.

It took a moment or two before Goro cottoned on to what Akira meant, his eyes widening, nodding suddenly. “Ahhhh, I see. That is... most unfortunate.”

Akira snorted. “Yeah. Most.”

There was a brief silence between them before Goro’s curiosity got the better of him again. “How... long has it been?” Another silence, Akira trying desperately to pretend he hadn’t heard what Akechi had said, so that maybe they’d just pass over it. Akechi just raised his volume. “Since you last-”

“I get it, I get it...” Akira cut him off before he could just go and fucking _say_ it, christ. He looked away, both embarrassed and annoyed at what he was about to say. “...since before I moved to Tokyo.”

Another silence, but a stunned one this time. “Kurusu-kun, that’s...”

“I know.”

“You moved here in April...”

“I know.”

“It’s well into the summer now-”

“I know, Akechi! I am very, _very_ aware of that fact.”

Another silence, but much shorter this time before “...that’s almost four months, Kurusu-kun-”

“Goro!” He raised his voice, distress and anger- not at Goro, but at life itself evident in every aspect of his being. “ _I know! I! Know!_ Tell me something I don’t know! Tell me fucking calculus, or something! I have a calendar, I know how long it’s been! I can _**see**_!”

A much, much longer silence, punctuated only by a conspicuous cough from Sojiro that made both of the teens blush and look away, embarrassed of how in-their-own-world they had gotten over the course of the conversation.

And then.

“...you could use my apartment, if you wanted.”

...

...what.

“...what?”

It took a moment for Akira to truly look at Goro, to process what he had just heard and stimulate his body to move again after the shock subsided. For his part, Goro seemed pretty stunned himself the words that had come out of his mouth, but there was a glimmer of determination in his eyes, as if he knew he had gone too far down this road several minutes ago, and was not cowardly enough to run back the other way now.

“I said... you could come over and use my apartment, if you wanted. It’s private, and the walls are much thicker than, say, a bathroom stall or really anything else you could easily access would be. And, of course, let us not forget that it has,ehm,” He gestured to the back of the cafe, that smug little smirk making its appearance again along with Akechi’s unbearable confidence. “Well, doors.”

Akira was stunned, again, but... but after the shock faded this time, he actually found himself considering it. On a practical level, he had wanted to see one of his friends’ homes for a while now, after all of them had piled their way into his excuse for a room over and over again through the last few months. He hadn’t expected Akechi to be the first one to offer to reciprocate, hell, he hadn’t expected Akechi to ever offer an opportunity to get closer to him period. And, frankly, as awkward as it sounded, more than anything else, he really, really wanted to jerk off, and was desperate enough by this point to take any opportunity he could to do so.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take the opportunity to be a little shit about it, though.

He glanced down at the table, looking nervous, then, after a few moments, peeked up at Akechi through his bangs with a sultry, Joker-esque look in his eyes. “I can... _come over_ , you say?”

Somehow, Akechi managed to simultaneously flush red and look absolutely done with Akira all at the same time. Giving him a flat look, Goro started to gather up his things, leaving enough yen on the table to cover his drink, and made his way to the door.

To find Akira following him a step or two behind.

“...what are you doing?”

Akira blinked at him, copying the faux-innocent head-tilt Akechi had used on him earlier. “Following you home. You invited me, right?”

The young detective sputtered for a moment, clearly having thought that Akira hadn’t taken him seriously, then, flushed again and looked back to the door. “...fine. Don’t fall behind, Kurusu-kun”

Akira could feel himself getting excited already. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Akechi.”

\---

An hour or so later, Akira watched as Akechi fumbled with the lock on his front door for a few long moments, before finally getting his keys in the right position and pulling it open. Tossing a cocky smile at Akira, he made a grand, sweeping gesture towards the interior of his appartment. “After you.”

Akira raised an eyebrow at the boy, looked around nervously at the clearly upper-middle-class hallway around him. “Is that... proper manners? Aren’t you required to follow classic decorum or something if you live in a place like this?”

Akechi sighed, glared up at him beadily through his bangs. “Considering what we’re here to do, Kurusu-kun, I very much doubt decorum will matter in the slightest in a few short moments. Just get in.”

He smiled at that, pleased as always to get under the detective’s skin enough for him to break his typical cheerfully fake demeanor. Strolling past him, he shrugged. “If you say so. Though the way you’re phrasing it, Akechi, you’d think you and I were here to do something lewd.”

He could hear Akechi sputtering behind him as he toed his shoes off near the door, the clicks of the latch and lock following soon after. “Well, aren’t we? You didn’t happen to forget what we were talking about back in Leblanc on the train ride over, did you?”

Shoes off, Akira turned to his friend with a toothy, evil smile. “Oh, I remember. But I had thought this was just so _I_ could get off, not some kind of... group activity.”

Another burst of red covered Akechi’s pale skin, a sight Akira was becoming incredibly fond of more and more the more he saw it. “That’s- I-” He took a deep, calming breath through his nose, slowly letting it whoosh out as Akira chuckled to himself nearby. Then, looking perfectly presentable again, he shot one of his charming-boy smiles at Akira as he went to toe off his shoes as well. “You really do get a kick out of teasing me, don’t you Kurusu-kun? Who knew a quiet boy like yourself was such a joker!”

Alarm bells went off in the back of Akira’s head at that particular choice of wording, and he smoothly turned away from watching Akechi struggle with his tightly-laced leather shoes. _Distract him, fluster him, quickly!_ “I wouldn’t say that, Akechi. Teasing implies that you’re not taking something seriously, doesn’t it?” He looked over his shoulder, sultry and confidant again as he met Akechi’s eyes. “And I never said I wouldn’t be down with it, you know, if you wanted to come join in on the fun.”

That seemed to break Akechi, just a little bit, the detective frozen as he bent over, halfway finished with organizing their shoes more neatly in the genkan, his jaw working soundlessly as he tried to process what just happened. _Perfect_. Akira threw him a cocky little smile of his own, then turned back to the apartment proper, walking further forwards with a muttered “Pardon the intrusion...”

As Akechi rebooted himself, Akira took the opportunity to look around the room, lit just enough to see around by the slowly fading late-afternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. It was... pretty ritzy. Like, damn. The living room space itself was as large as Akira’s entire room in the attic, and furnished about a hundred times better, a modern little kotatsu placed neatly in between an offensively large TV and an obscenely comfortable-looking leather couch, little lamps and tables and shelves scattered around the rest of the space. The wide, generous windows neatly curtained to his left, the right side of the room led to a spacious kitchen that, while just as richly adorned with modern-looking appliances, (was that one of those refrigerators wi _th a fucking TV screen in it,_ ) it looked about a tenth as used as the living room itself, a few leftover take-out containers near the side of the countertop attesting to why it still looked so pristine.

There was another hallway near the kitchen space leading to what was presumably the bathroom and bedroom, and that was where Akira headed as he took another look at everything, head twisting around like the awed country boy he was. He let out a long, low whistle as he walked. “Hot damn, Akechi. You must really earn your keep with the cops if you can afford a place this nice. Color me impressed.”

He could practically feel Akechi’s prideful little smile behind him as the now once again put together detective followed him in, and wondered for a brief moment what it exactly meant that Akira had developed such a sixth sense for the other boy’s expressions and moods. “Ah, not exactly. It’s a bit of a long story, actually, but suffice to say my employers simply didn’t want the media-darling-face of the department living in the kind of downtrodden apartment an orphaned schoolboy would normally be able to afford, so they set me up with this. It’s not that unusual of an arrangement for high-profile new talent, or so I’ve been told.”

Akechi talked about this like he was reading it off a script (or more likely, Akira guessed, like he had practiced the mini-speech to himself in the shower and in front of the mirror every other morning,) but unlike his usual relaxed, fake-ass patter, Akira thought he heard a bit of excitement as Akechi spoke, as if he’d been waiting to be able to show off like this. “Huh. Pretty cool that they did that, even if it was just so that you’d look even prettier than you already did for them. Though,” he stopped right in front of the hallway he had been headed towards, turning around just in time to catch the last remnants of a blush from being called ‘pretty’ leave Akechi’s cheeks. Akira smirked, not unkindly. “I’d wager this is probably the first time you’ve actually been able to bring someone over to show it off, huh?”

The other boy frowned at that, looking a little insulted, a little more closed off, and Akira panicked quietly. “Do I seem so friendless to you, Kurusu-kun?”

He scoffed. “No way. You’re the kind of guy that could make friends wherever you went if you wanted to, with how smart and cool and cute you can be when you let your walls down.” Ahh, there was that pleasant blush and embarrassed half-smile again, nice work Akira, back on track we go. “I just figured from how clean your place is, and how you wouldn’t really need to study with someone else, considering how smart you are and how you only really bring fiction books to Leblanc instead of textbooks like I would... well, you wouldn’t _need_ to bring anyone over, and it doesn’t look like you have just for fun either.”

He gestured around to the tables, most of which were covered in thin, but still visible layers of dust from lack of use. Even the kotatsu, which was clearly the most used thing in the house, considering the few folders and single, small black laptop that rested upon it. Even it still had a fair amount of dust on the side closest to the TV. And, to put the final cherry on it, the place in general was just not messy enough for any casual friends to have hung out there, not a single item in place or random jacket someone forgot draped over a random piece of furniture. Admittedly, this was just Akira’s experience with hosting the other Thieves talking, but it was fairly easy to extrapolate that that was how most friend groups worked, and by extension, that Akechi wasn’t part of one.

Instead of saying all that though, Akira just smiled kindly, making very sure there was no bite or edge to any part of his expression, and simply said “Too clean."  
There was an embarrassed, strained smile on Goro’s lips by the end of that, tense, but unwillingly impressed in spite of it. “I somehow always manage to forget how observant you can be too, Kurusu-kun. You’d make a fine detective yourself with those kinds of skills.”

A lazy smirk rose on Akira as he shrugged, leaned against the wall behind him. “Eh, I’ll pass. I’m a delinquent anyways, remember? More likely to end up on the other side of the bars by the cops’ standards than wear a badge next to ‘em. Not that I’d want to anyways, if I’m honest.”

Goro laughed lightly. “A detective’s assistant, then. The position is still open, you know.”

Akira’s smirk grew devilish. “Let’s see how open your positions are today, then maybe I’ll consider assisting you again in the future, eh detective?”

“...”

...

“Okay, I admit, that one was a bit of a stretch, but my friends are usually the ones making all the dirty jokes, when am I gonna get an opportunity to say this kind of stuff again?”

The detective rolled his eyes, still looking very disapproving at the barely-a-pun Akira had tried to make, but Akira could catch a hint of a tiny, unwilling smile playing around his lips all the same. “You won’t any time soon if you keep this nonsense up, Kurusu-kun. Come on, I’ll show you to my room- and don’t you dare make another ‘come on’ pun or I swear I’ll put you out on the street here and now.”

Akira laughed brightly as he nodded and followed Akechi in. Somehow, whenever the detective got pissed enough to actually act even a little frustrated towards Akira, it never failed to make him feel bright and buzzy. Maybe he was a bit of a masochist. Something to consider later- well, maybe not that much later, considering what he was heading to Akechi’s room to do.

The bedroom was pretty much what Akira expected by this point- namely, very nice and mostly undecorated. The bed was twice as big as Akira’s futon-on-a-crate was back at Leblanc- hell, probably twice as big as his old bed had been back home. There was a wide, doorless walk-in closet, wasted on about three of the same suit, a school uniform, and a handful of button-ups and slacks (the man even had hangars for his pants, good lord). A small nightstand next to Akechi’s bed held only a large glass of water, likely left over from the night before, and a small leather-bound journal sitting next to a well-used pen, perhaps to write down his dreams in, or more likely, any deductions Goro might happen to make as he attempts to fall asleep at night. Or who knows, maybe both, maybe Goro was just nerdy enough that his dreams consisted purely of figuring out crimes and, apparently, bringing a boy he ordered coffee from, intimidated the friends of, and flirted (???) endlessly with over to jerk off.

...Akira hated it, but those types of dreams sounded _exactly_ like the sort of shit that’d go on in the mind of Goro Akechi.

Finishing his inspection of the place, Akira’s focus shifted back to Goro himself, who was, as one would imagine in this kind of situation, just sort of standing in front of his bed awkwardly, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt or his own fingers. He coughed nervously when he felt Akira’s eyes on him again, giving him a shaky smile that reeked of forced, fake confidence.

Akira hated it, hated seeing Akechi like this, the way he imagined the detective had to feel internally around all the shitty adults he was forced to work with all his life, as if he had to _play nice_ and _pacify_ and bullshit like that.

He decided quickly that the best way to wipe the look off the other boy’s face was to be his normal, blithe self, and so with a smirk, he strode past Goro and flopped onto the bed, face-first. He took a long, deep, noisy breath of the alluring, fresh scent of the sheets (which absolutely also smelled a little like Goro when he came into Leblanc after a bike run, a scent Akira had memorized ages ago for very untoward, lustful scent-memory purposes and could now recognize in a heartbeat) and sighed contentedly. “Mmm... fresh sheets.” He rolled around on the bed, eyes closed, humming contentedly to himself, relaxed and boneless.

It wasn’t long before he heard what he was aiming for, a charmed, if confused laugh from Akechi, the kind he was always rewarded with when he did something that especially surprised the detective. “Honestly, Kurusu-kun. You act like you haven’t seen a clean comforter in ages- which might not be inaccurate, I suppose.”

Akira groaned into the sheets. “It takes about five minutes for anything I bring into the attic at Leblanc to smell like dust and mothballs, yeah. These are just so fresh and-” He took a big, noisy sniff, consciously playing the dork, knowing Goro loved that schtick. “-so CLEAN.” He groaned again, this time in pleasure, and continued rolling around, pulling on his memories of Morgana’s more cat-like moments and trying to imitate them in as natural a way as he could.

It worked, another burst of real laughter coming from Akechi behind him, before he sensed the other boy shake his head and heard him move to sit down at the rolly-polly-Akira-less end of the bed. “Well, savor the sensation, I suppose, it isn’t like they’ll be clean for long after today.”

_God fucking damnit Akechi, why do you have to be like this._ The mood died picoseconds after the words floated carelessly from Goro’s mouth, shot straight through the forehead with guileless, brutal honesty. “Uh, yeah,” Akira stopped his catboy-impression and levered himself back into a sitting position, scratching at his neck awkwardly. “I guess so, huh.”

Silence. Dreadful, awkward silence. AGAIN.

Goro was the one to break it, this time. “So...”

...okay, Goro was the one to attempt to break it this time, and immediately fail with flying colors. Nice one, buddy. “Yeah...” Okay, not that Akira was doing any better, but hey he basically used up all his stock on the whole cute, gormless catboy schtick, give him a break here!

“...would you like a snack, or-”

“Jesus fuck, Goro.”

“WELL WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO???” Goro threw up his hands in exasperation as Akira buried his face into his own, even more mortified than before. “What the hell is the proper way to be a host when your friend comes over to crank one off?”

_I’m not sure that’s actually a phrase, Akechi._ “I don’t fucking know, help him out, maybe???”

...

...wait...

“...I think I did the thing where you-”

“-okay.”

“-think the thing you were supposed to say out loud and say the part you were did you say okay? What?”

Goro was the human form of a red velvet pancake, but he wasn’t flinching away. If anything he was looking straight ahead (at the floor between his feet, but baby steps) with unflinching determination. “I... did say that, yes.”

“...in response to the whole...”

“...helping you out thing, yes.” The detective looked like he had to choke that one out (nice choice of words, brain-Akira) and Akira almost instinctually reached for the glass of water at how gravely the other boy’s voice sounded trying to say it.

“...huh.” Akira, for his part, felt little but the heat in his face, his mind moving a dozen kilometers a second and nowhere fast at the same time, trying desperately to figure out what the hell to do _now?!?!_

There was a longer silence between them, punctuated only by some long, puffy, nasally breaths from Akechi, until the other boy apparently couldn’t stand it anymore and tossed his hands up again. “Well, since you don’t seem to be teeming with any other suggestions, Kurusu-kun, I’ll just-” his voice cut off in a squeak, but Goro cleared his throat and barreled onwards. ‘I’ll just take the initiative!”

Akira turned towards Akechi, about to ask him very urgently what exactly he meant by that, before he found himself being pushed down against the mattress by a firm hand on his shoulder. He stayed where he was put, mostly out of shock, partially out of interest in the very comfy foam pillow his head found beneath itself, and watched, lips still parted a little in shock, as Goro, furiously blushing, started undoing Akira’s suspender buckles and pants with the frantic pace and focus of a man opening up the fuselage of a bomb, knowing he’s going to have to defuse the damn thing in a couple moments and not knowing for the life of him which wire he’ll have to cut when the time comes.

Soon enough, Akira’s fly was open, his soft, plain, black unmentionables displayed to all the world to see. He was very obviously hard, a fact Akechi seemed unable for he moment to take his eyes off of, and the only things he could feel was the sweat collecting at every crevice on his body and the beat of his heart pulsing in the vein of his dick.

Snapping himself out of it, Akechi reached for the elastic of the underpants- then stopped himself, looking up suddenly at Akira. It took a few moments for Akira’s very addled brain to realize that Goro was asking for consent before moving forwards with... with this, and another moment before he found the physical capability within himself to shakily nod his head. He was sure that flecks of sweat shot off in every direction when he did so.

Goro nodded himself, seeming satisfied, then, with the delicacy of a man performing brain surgery, slowly pulled the briefs down, Akira’s hips subconsciously rising up off the sheets to allow Goro to pull them and his pants down properly.

And there it was. His dick felt the chill of the open air and Goro’s gaze at the exact same time. Akira could feel a bead of pre-come making itself known at his tip, and Goro- Goro fucking licked his goddamn lips at the sight, the delicate, pink tip of his tongue swiping over his now-parted bottom lip, his eyes hazy, looking far away and- and _hungry_ at the same time.

Akira swallowed thickly, his dick twitching and stiffening all the more, and all he could feel was an _immense, **unbearable**_ arousal now, and the movement seemed to be all Goro needed to move himself, and then hot skin touched Akira, and when had his gloves come off, and, and, and-

Fuck it felt _perfect_.

And then Goro leaned in after his hand and licked a stripe up from the base of Akira’s dick to the tip, chasing after the bead of pre he saw with that pink, pink tongue of his, and Akira moaned like a fucking porn star.

“Fff _uck, Goro~_ ”

Akira could feel the breath catch in Goro’s throat at his first name passing through Akira’s lips for the first time and so, so lewdly at that, could hear the vibrations of the groan that passed softly between Goro’s own. Emboldened, or perhaps even more lost to the intensity of the situation, Goro licked up and back down Akira’s shaft again, and again and again, hand moving tenderly above his tongue, stroking him and caressing the flushed, plump tip with the tips of his delicate, always-precise fingers.

Akira moaned as if Goro was pounding him into the fucking sheets, unable- _unwilling_ to take his eyes off the sight, but forced by the pleasure coursing through him to toss his head to the side, each breath coming out as a groan of ecstasy ripped straight from his fucking lungs. A small part of him, maybe Arsene, maybe just the ever-present sense of embarrassment Akira walked around with most of his life, said that he really shouldn’t be reacting this much from what was, in essence, not even a blowjob, but _fuck_ , Akira had, essentially, been edging himself for _**months** **now**_. His sensitivity was higher than even he could have thought possible, each swipe of Akechi’s hot, wet, firm tongue against him setting his entire body on fire.

He almost wondered, for a brief second as Akechi finished another lick, if the detective had... experience in this arena, but looking closer at the dazed, almost crazed look in his eyes, it seemed more likely that he was just throwing himself body and soul into a fantasy he had been aching with his entire hormonal body to try out for ages. Akira was way too dazed to make sense of that observation, and too overwhelmed soon enough too, as Goro switched tactics.

Shifting the position of his head and hand, Goro wrapped his fingers fully around Akira’s shaft now, stroking him firm and purposefully, as, at the same time, he leaned down to take Akira’s head in his mouth, wrapping his lips around where the flushed, purple tip ended, and _running his fucking tongue over every goddamned inch of skin there,_ like it was the most delicious fucking thing the detective had ever tasted, and he couldn’t get enough.

Akira was an absolute mess, fingers clutching at the pillow behind him like a lifeline, feeling his hips snap up involuntarily, only to feel Goro easily make space for the extra dick in his mouth when he did so, as if he expected it fully, which only made Akira moan louder, tremble harder, chanting wordless noises and Goro’s name with each tortured cry torn from him.

Akechi only increased the pace of his hand further, and, seemingly sensing (and probably tasting, from how much pre Akira was likely seeping out) how close Akira was, as if not wanting to miss out on the chance, moved his other hand to caress tenderly at Akira’s balls, running his fingers and palm against them like they were a treasure even a Prince was only allowed to touch once in his life.

But Akira...

Akira didn’t want this to end. With every molecule of his brain that still functioned enough to think, he didn’t want this to end yet. And so, summoning the strength to move from the deepest parts of his soul, he released the pillow with one hand and reached out to place it against Akechi’s head.

Goro jerked to a stop, looking up at Akira with wide, panicked eyes, the tip of Akira’s dick still held between his lips, looking absolutely terrified that he had done something wrong- a worry that was quickly soothed away when Akira let out a rough groan at the sight of Goro like that. He felt- he fucking _felt_ Goro _smile around his dick,_ and shakily, very shakily managed to speak up. “N-not yet... I’m s-so close, but...” His mind spun, trying to think of some way to make this last longer and still feel the glory of Akechi against him at the same time. The words he finally found spilled from his lips as soon as they popped into his head, before he could truly think them through.

“...you too...together...”

It took a second for the both of them to process that, Akira’s dick finally slipping out from Akechi’s lips as the other boy stared unmoving before, before-

The fondest, warmest, most beautiful expression, one that even Akira’s self-deprecating brain couldn’t help but label as _utterly in love,_ blossomed across Goro’s face. With a ragged, but heartfelt warmth, he replied, “Of course, Akira.”

And crawled elegantly up Akira’s body to bring his lips home.

The kiss was as beautiful, as wonderful as everything else had been so far, that Akira found himself moaning into it as soon as it registered, found himself moaning with Akechi doing the exact same back. They pressed against each other, reveling in the sweet, hot sensation, Goro’s forearms on either side of Akira’s head, his hands tangled in Akira’s hair, and Akira reached up to thread his own fingers through Goro’s locks.

The touch seemed to spark something, something new and absolutely, immediately necessary, and the kiss morphed from sweet and beautiful and warm to all that and _passionate_ as well, and _desperate_ , and _erotic._ Their bodies began to squirm, the heat between their legs searching out to grind against one another, the hardness covered by Akechi’s slacks rubbing again and again against Akira’s bare cock.

Soon enough, Akira couldn’t take the separation a moment longer, hands moving down with a growl to hook into Akechi’s waistband and pull the damned fabric down with a single, sudden, surprising to them both display of strength and will and possessive dominance that apparently went right to Akechi’s dick if his moan in response was anything to go by.

And skin-to-skin was even better than Akira could have imagined. Clumsy as it was, inelegant as it was, every brush of Akechi’s dick against his own lit up his body like an electric grid at night, moving him to claw and squeeze at Akechi’s now-exposed ass in pleasure- and fuck if _that_ wasn’t something in and of itself that sent Akira wild. Akechi was, as Futaba would say, dumb fuckin thicc, simply perfect. Everything was perfect, and he never, ever wanted any of it to stop.

Then, with a moan and a desperate, firey look in his eyes, Goro broke off the kiss, only to lick his palm, which would have been the sexiest thing Akira had ever seen, if it wasn’t immediately followed by Akechi pressing his hand between them and wrapping his fingers around both of their dicks, perfectly aligning them together.

He started to stroke them both off, and Akira started to lose his goddamned mind.

He tossed his head back, hips thrusting in time with Goro’s hand, feeling Goro do the same, feeling Goro’s name flow across his lips again and again like water, feeling a deep, growling noise rumble in Goro’s chest in response, feeling Goro’s lips melt demandingly against his, feeling their kiss deepen and become messy and wet and uncoordinated and wild as they came close and came closer and came closer and came and-

White light blinded Akira as he felt himself come, moaning Goro’s name at the top of his lungs into Goro’s mouth, felt Goro do the same with Akira’s, felt heat, and wet, and tightness, and release, and warmth, and-

He felt. Akira panted, and clung to Goro, and felt. Nothing but pleasure, in every inch of his body. Nothing but satisfaction, warming every last part of him. Nothing but the weight of Goro, collapsed on top of him, of their chests, their hearts pressed one against the other, of Goro’s lips, messily smeared half against his cheek, of the hot breaths panting out of him across his skin, of Goro, Goro...

He felt... so good.

He felt Goro lose consciousness first, and followed into the dreamy dark soon after.

\---

Goro Akechi awoke an interminable amount of time later to find that Akira had beat him to it, and was already sitting up, head in his hands, eyes barely visible between the splay of his fingers as he gazed off into the distance at Goro’s mussed sheets.

_Well, this is going to be pleasant,_ Goro quipped sarcastically to himself, rising up slowly to join Akira, and cracking his neck a little once he did. The sharp noise clearly got Kurusu’s attention, who jumped in surprise and shifted quickly to look at Akechi instead. He was, Goro noticed, sitting on top of the sheets, his legs and, more importantly, genitals displayed to the open air. He must not be feeling nearly as embarrassed about the whole affair from earlier as Goro was, his own lower half firmly set beneath fabric with no intention of changing the fact any time soon. So, not embarrassed to be naked, (which suggested a familiarity with this sort of situation perhaps, though previous conversations as well as the way he acted during their... tryst earlier certainly suggested the opposite- well, it suggested it as far as Goro’s own complete lack of experience was concerned, he was admittedly going purely off of educated guesses based on media tropes he was aware of, so who fucking knew in the end,) but going by his body language earlier, clearly regretful all the same. Great.

Goro cleared his throat. He might as well be the one to start this light rail to hell off himself, maybe save himself a little dignity in the process.”Kurusu-kun. What.. erm, what time is it?”

Akira flinched at Akechi’s words- at being called by his last name, perhaps? Akechi did remember rather vividly that he had slipped earlier, and started to call him Akira instead, though if that was the case, it was rather silly of Kurusu to assume that what happened in the heat of passion would carry over to normal conversations.

He looked around the room for a moment, searching probably for his pants, (and within them his phone,) which had gotten tossed aside earlier, and seemed to find them on the ground. His mouth thinned as he seemed to consider reaching for them, but shrugged the idea off- too much effort, probably. Akechi had learned over the course of knowing Akira that the man was remarkably cat-like in his habits, and just as lazy as one too at times. The thief craned his neck to look out Akechi’s door instead. “From how dark the rest of your place looks, sometime in the evening probably? Maybe later, I was only up for a few minutes before you woke.”

Akechi sighed, annoyed. “Great.” Shido had been scheduled to call him today- he had hoped to get the call over with while Akira had been... busying himself, but now... well, a part of him knew as he joined in on the affair that he’d have to pay the piper for all of this eventually. Shido’s anger would just have to be another part of the bill, he supposed. Was it worth it? He really had no idea what had driven him to invite Kurusu over in the first place, much less do... all of _that_ to him. Well, that wasn’t wholly true, he had several guesses, if no single confirmed conclusion yet, but he really should have been able to overpower any impulse to allow the damned thief to get this close to him, much less to fuck around with the boy. In the moment, it was as if he could think of nothing else, could see nothing but Akira in front of him, but now... he just saw his weak, pathetic self in retrospect. Shameful.

“So...”

He snapped out of his line of thought, which must have gone on for longer than anticipated (again, why was Akira so easy to get distracted around? (he knew why, this entire afternoon was why, every confusing thing that happened around this attic rat had the same damn answer that he had been trying to avoid for months now)). “Yes, right. Sorry.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, released it, then bowed as much as he could while sitting down towards Akira. “I apologize, Kurusu-kun, with every fiber of my being. To invite you into my home only to, in the end... force myself upon you is not only a horrific breach of basic propriety, but a crime who’s severity I cannot overstate-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, slow down Gor- Akechi. Easy,” Akechi flinched at the almost-drop of his first name, the shock of hearing it in Akira’s voice still managing to send a shiver down his spine, just as it did earlier. But he pushed the sensation out of his head as best he could, and rose slightly to look at Akira, who was waving his hands about effusively. “I asked for this, okay? Literally, you didn’t just have verbal confirmation I wanted this to happen, but of the two of us, I was the one who asked to escalate things like this. You’ve nothing to apologize for. Besides,” he shifted, obvious embarrassment flushing his features as he moved to tug at his bangs. “You were... really, really amazing. Like, that felt better than anything I’ve ever felt before- hell, anything I’ve _imagined_ before. Who’d complain about that? Well, as long as it was consensual, which it was, like I, um, like I said,” he finished, lamely. Well, he’d probably think it was lame, but Goro was far too busy trying to will the bright heat out of his cheeks from not just being complimented, which he knew he was weak to already, but being complemented at apparently being an unbelievably incredible lay????? How is someone supposed to react to that?????????

They both sat in awkward, mutually embarrassed silence for a few moments more, before Akechi calmed down enough to offer a quiet “...okay.”

Akira, still a little red in the face, (though not as much as Goro was sure he was,) nodded. “Good.”

“...but,” Goro continued, that look from earlier flashing through his mind. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there Kurusu-kun? Earlier, before you realized I was awake, I saw you looking... immensely melancholic, to say the least.”

Akira grimaced, either at being caught, or at remembering himself. “Uh, yeah... sorry about that.”

Goro frowned. “If I don’t have to apologize for launching myself at you, Kurusu-kun, you certainly don’t have to for looking sad after the fact. I just... want to know what’s wrong.”

The dark-haired boy sighed, pushing his fingers through his locks. “It’s just... I guess I really didn’t expect things to go this way?”

Ah, of course. Goro had suspected for some time that all the undeniably flirty behavior Kurusu had been showing him all this time had been just that- a show, an attempt to cosy up to the detective investigating their little group, and nothing more, but now he had confirmation, at last. It was just as bitter a feeling as Goro had suspected it might be.

But Akira was still talking. “I mean, I didn’t really expect to get a chance to, uh, get off until I either went back to my hometown, or, uh, got pent-up enough to say fuck it and hide away in a stall at school and do it there, which really isn’t the better option, seriously, for a private school, Shujin must really underpay it’s custodial staff... But, uhm, for you to pick up on how overstrung I was, then to offer me your place of all things, and then to get _intimate_ with you before I even summoned up enough courage to ask you out, like... today’s just been one big surprise after another, and I guess it’s all hitting me at once.” He smiled weakly at Goro. “I usually try not to look so mopey when I’m around other people. Sorry you had to see that.”

Goro shook his head automatically. “I get the distinct impression that we’re both apologizing far too much at this point. Were I not undressed below the waist, I might laugh it off, but to cut to the heart of the matter, I think-” He trailed off suddenly, as his conscious mind caught up to the words his subconscious had been screaming and flailing about at since he heard them. “...wait. Did... did you say you had wanted to ask me out, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira looked surprised. “Uh, yeah? Akechi, I was screaming your name and kissing you like my life depended on it a few hours ago, of course I want to _date_ you. I mean, that usually comes first, way before the other stuff- we literally did this almost as backwards as someone could. And I guess not everyone wants to date people they f- that they get intimate with, but, uhm... I do." He swallowed, took a deep breath. “That’s what was embarrassing me the most, I guess.”

Goro just... blinked, mouth hanging open a little again. One one hand, it was a perfectly obvious conclusion to reach. Logically, he really should have arrived there well before Kurusu had to point the obvious out to him, he just... “...I... suppose I’m just surprised. I didn’t really think anybody could- erm, that you would... feel that way about me... ugh.” He covered his face, almost as red as before at both the horrifically pathetic slip-up, as well as the fact that it was true. He really thought so little of himself as a person that even with Akira moaning his name out loud enough that Goro was certain he’d be getting a noise complaint and some very judging looks from his neighbors sooner or later, he still couldn’t realize that the other boy might have feelings for him. That was... just really pathetic, wasn’t it? Sure, there was plenty of reason to hate himself, Goro added to that list every time he picked up the phone knowing it was Shido on the other end, knowing what a conversation with that man would inevitably mean for some poor schmuck out there. But still, even with that, he would have expected that at the very least his feelings wouldn’t get in the way of his deductive talent- it was the one thing he’d ever really been good at. Though, considering they already got in the way of his self-restraint, perhaps completely falling apart at every seam he possessed was just the natural conclusion for when Goro Akechi caught even the slightest feeling. Truly, truly pathetic.

Akira, meanwhile, seemed dumbfounded. “Uhm, who wouldn’t like you, Akechi? I’ve only known you for a little while, and it’s pretty clear to me you’d charm the pants off of anyone who met you. For you to take an interest in someone- I mean shit, Goro, I may have been in denial about it for a while, but with the way you look at me when we talk, with the way you looked at me earlier, before you, uh, ‘dove in?’ I was gone, like, I’ve... pretty irrevocably fallen for you at this point.”

Goro snorted derisively. He realized, at some more self-aware part of his mind he liked to bury up to the eyeballs when he was feeling like this, that under normal circumstances words like that would be enough to have him glowing so red he might as well have a radioactive warning attached to him. But, fallen in the depths of self-hatred as he now had, such reactions were impossible, physically and emotionally. “I really doubt it, Kurusu-kun.”

Offense flared up throughout Akira, Goro could sense it, and he held up a hand before the other boy could start another pacifying tirade. “I don’t mean your feelings, Kurusu-kun, I’ll take your word for that. I’m referring to how you said they were ‘irrevocable.’ That’s... very unlikely.”

The small part of Goro that could still control it’s thoughts and feelings was starting to get scared. Normally, again, he’d have enough of a filter to, even if he was feeling like shit, at least pretend convincingly enough that he was flattered and fine and all the rest of the cheerful bullshit that came with his typical mask. This though... between the sex and general exhaustion and being quite literally stripped bare in front of Akira, he must be too tired to bother, and that... that could be a _problem_. One he really wasn’t sure he could handle, and that, that was terrifying.

Akira, of course, _of course,_ managed to surprise him instead.

He sighed, fingers digging into the sheets, looking incredibly, deeply thoughtful, a look Goro hadn’t seen on him before now, and one that sparked yet further worry in his chest, but then loosened his grip, seemingly decided on something very important to him. “Look, Goro... I get that you’re probably trying to say something like ‘if I knew the real you, I wouldn’t feel this way,’ or alluding to some big, dark secret you hold that would scare me off for sure, but... I already know. Okay?”

Goro whirled to look Akira dead in the eye, fast enough that his hair slapped him in the cheek as he did so. “ _What?_ ” He spat the words out, that fear starting to spill over the edge. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t _**possibly** _know.

Akira just shrugged. “I’ve known for a while, Goro- not the specifics, I guess, but ever since we met I kinda figured something was up. Sometimes you’ll look way more pensive and sad than I’d expect, when you think nobody’s watching at Leblanc, or this really soft-but-bitter tone will slip out when you’re talking about certain things, or you’ll ball your fists so tight that I’d bet money you’d cut your palm with your fingernails if you didn’t have gloves on.”

Goro was... frankly stunned stupid that Akira had caught so many of his mannerisms- impressed too, unwillingly, and would have tried to summon up the strength to say so had Akira not simply barreled on, looking nervous, but determined. “Not just that, though... you... do this thing, and I’ve gone back and forth as to whether it’s intentional but I’m starting to really think it’s not. Sometimes, when we’re hanging out, or I’m just serving you coffee, you’ll start up on some subject out of nowhere and talk about it at length, but different than normal. All casual, but deliberate, like you’re trying to drop really subtle hints to me about the parts of your life you usually hide. Sometimes you’ll be talking about your police work, and it’ll veer into talking about the mental shutdown cases like they’re really, really personal, or you’ll talk about them in a way that clearly implies you know more about it than you should, even as a genius detective. You’ll make these assumptions and leaps in logic that don’t make logical sense, unless you were intimately familiar with how the crimes were committed.”

Uh-oh.

“Or you’ll talk about politics, and politicians, and people in power, and you’ll start off casual, but eventually you’ll sound really, really bitter about it, or you’ll talk about the inner-workings of the inner-circles of the powerful like you’ve been there to see it happen- and I don’t mean that you’ve talked with, like, the SIU chief or something enough to extrapolate, you make assertions that sound like you’ve literally seen how a corrupt leader does his corrupt stuff firsthand. Or you’ll offhandedly mention that you know what it’s like to have incapacitating nightmares about your past, or about regretting your own actions in the past, or about actions you’ll regret that you’ll take in the future.”

“Most often, though, you’ll talk about the Phantom Thieves, which wouldn’t be surprising, but you always talk about them like you know way more about them than anyone should without knowing exactly how they do what they do, and not in a way where you’re trying to lead me into confirming your suspicions about me and my friends, in a way where you _already know_ , like you’ve seen things with your own eyes that gives you more insight into their shit than anyone should have, even a brilliant detective like you, Goro.”

The more Akira continued to talk, the more frantic he looked, as if he wasn’t just reading out an extremely detailed call-out post of Goro Akechi and his conversational slip-ups, but he was getting shit off his chest he’d been holding in for ages, holding in even from his friends, like it’s been clawing at his mind for months and now that it’s coming out he can’t help but sound and look a little deranged “It’s like... it’s like you’ve been dropping little breadcrumbs for me to follow, Goro. Like part of you really, really want me to notice all the weird shit you do that most people would dismiss as eccentricities or just you being weirdly smart, and see them for the intentional clues that they are. It’s like you _want_ me to figure out that you’ve been doing some really messed-up shit, and now that I’m getting the feeling that you’ve been doing it all subconsciously, I really don’t know what to think.”

There was silence for a few moments, as Akira caught his breath, and Goro just... let his lips hang open wide, like a drugged-up cat, stunned speechless. So many things were bubbling up inside him after hearing all of that- shock and disgust at himself for apparently letting so, so much slip without being aware of it. Strange, overwhelming relief that here, at least, he didn’t have to hide anymore, that Akira could see through him as well as Goro could see through Akira. Warmth, affection, endearment for the exact same reason. Terror, that there was a part of him that could manipulate his actions so strongly without him knowing. Pride, and happiness from that same, muscular, white-and-red-and-gold part. Seething, seething rage from a far more black-and-white part that this nobody, this nothing claimed to know him so intimately, know him better than he knew himself even!

Combined together, Goro could feel from all the conflicting, overpowering feelings a wave of mad, crazed, manic laughter ready to spill out louder and louder the closer it bubbled up to his lips-

But Akira cut him off again, surprised him again, made all the confusion and fear dissappear into mist as he looked up from studying the sheets and locked eyes with Goro, gazing at him with, so, so, so much love. And tenderness. And affection.

And Goro sure as shit had nothing to respond to that. He’d... he’d never seen that directed at him before, not so pure, not so powerful.

Akira spoke, words flowing into the air like honey. “The point is, Goro, I knew all of that. I’ve known all of that for _ages_. Since we first met, really. And I still...” He blushed, eyes flitting away for a moment, but coming back to meet Goro’s as strong as ever. “...I still fell in love with you.”

He let that sink in for a moment before shaking his head and chuckling to himself. “It’s a little weird, but realizing all of that stuff really only made me want to know more about you. To figure out _why_ , to really understand the you behind all the masks. It was surprising, but I realized that I... actually really like you, masked or no, pleasant or no, happy or no. All that bitterness and anger and murderous intent I could feel just beneath the surface in you... it kinda helped me realize that I’ve been in the same boat since I got convicted, emotionally speaking. I’m not trying to claim I know everything you’re going through or anything like that, but... I get it, in a general sense, at least. Hating the world so much, being hurt by it so much that when you had the choice to really hurt it back, you’d pull the trigger.”

His expression got a bit sadder, a little less bright. “In retrospect, if I didn’t end up stumbling into making the friends I’ve made, I’d probably have done almost exactly what I think you’ve been doing, though probably not at the behest of some powerful, evil motherfucker like I’ve gathered you’ve been stuck with. My friends have been the ones with the morals from the start, and I guess without realizing it I just sort of copied that attitude as a part of the masks I’ve been wearing to fit in, even around them. But... you said as much that you haven’t really had a friend or even someone to talk to as much as we do until you met me. Alone, and in pain and anger... that’s what leads everyone to do fucked-up shit, isn’t it?”

Goro finally found the ability to speak, even if only in reflex, spitting back at Akira’s rhetorical question, “Is that pity I hear, Kurusu-kun? You can’t honestly be trying to exonerate me of guilt, to act like I’m some poor, misunderstood freak you can rehabilitate and save like all your other friends?”

Something in that seemed to get to Akira, made him flinch, but he gathered himself very quickly, just looked back with steely, steel-eyed determination. “I’m not pitying you, Goro, I’m saying I get why you’ve done the shit you’ve done, why you’ve done some really fucked-up things, that I’d probably do the same in your shoes, and that _I like you anyways._ ” The passion in Akira’s voice, his posture, his eyes grew and grew as he spoke, until he was practically shouting. He took a breath, seemed to school his volume, but continued with no less heartfelt power to his words. “I really, really like you, Goro. It’s like... get angry at me for presuming if you want, but I feel like you and I can really get each other on a level most people never can, that we can see the fucked-up parts of each other’s hearts, and show the fucked-up parts of our hearts to each other, and know that instead of being rejected or disgusted, we’d just... understand. We’d relate. Our bond would only grow stronger.”

Akira reached out and took Goro’s trembling hand- which had apparently been trembling for some time now, without Goro noticing, and now that he was paying attention, so was his entire body- hell, his face felt wet, his eyes sore as if they’d been going too for some time now. Akira just laced their fingers together, and scooted closer on the bed, expression warm and tender and so soft.

“I like you, Goro. I like you for your charm and your intelligence and your beauty and your wit and your laugh and the twinkle in your eyes when we talk and how they blow wide and your cute eyebrows shoot up when I manage to really surprise you and for your anger and your pain and your bad habits and hateful worldview and the fucked up shit you’ve done and yes, because I’ve learned you’re self-deprecating enough to worry about it without multiple verbal confirmations, I like you very, very romantically. I’m... really in love with you, Goro, and quite literally there isn’t a thing in this or any other world that could change that. I know that doesn’t fix all the shit you’ve gone through, or fix anything really, and I don’t expect it to. We’re... both kind of fucked up in the heart, I think? Therapy and some good friends and a bunch of years are probably gonna be the only thing that can fix that.” He sighed, but locked eyes with Goro again, that warmth returning tenfold. “But that doesn’t change how I much I feel for you. And I really, really do feel for you, Goro. With all my heart.”

There was silence, and Goro squeezed tighter onto Akira’s hands, and Akira squeezed back, and leaned in, and pressed his forehead against Goro’s, and Goro’s breath hitched, and caught, and the dam inside Goro broke.

Akira pulled him into his lap, into his arms, and however much time passed while he let out everything he had to let out, Akira just held him, and kissed his brow and the top of his head, and ran his fingers through his hair, and radiated pure, pure love.

\---

It was over at least three entirely different genres of cuisine, a couple bowls of variously-flavored instant ramen, and some shittily instant but somehow still delicious coffee, (Akira was a goddamned wizard,) that Akechi realized he still hadn’t checked his phone for any messages from Shido. Hell, by this point the damn thing’s battery had probably died, and while Goro was unfortunately familiar with the type of anger Shido displayed after one of his calls was missed, he had never seen exactly what the man would do when sent straight to voicemail completely.

He found, deep down, that he really didn’t care, one way or the other.

He and Akira had woken up in the very early hours of the morning, even earlier than Akechi usually woke up at to go cycling, discovering at the same time that they had fallen asleep at some point after Goro had finally stopped crying, tangled in each other’s arms and bodies, Akira apparently having generously removed both of their now snot-and-tear-covered shirts beforehand. Goro found he didn’t mind this, either, the crying or the waking up naked with Akira. He was discovering a lot of things about himself today, and deciding for once in his life to bask in the warm approval from Robin and the lustful, desperate needs of Loki instead of shoving the feelings away.

They had made out for some time, the apartment too cold to get out from under the covers yet, reveling instead in the warmth of each other’s body. When they had finally parted, found some big, thick, fluffy robes tucked in the very back of Akechi’s closet, and Akira was rummaging through Goro’s kitchen for scraps, Goro had told him everything, confirming what Akira had already guessed and filling in the gaps where he hadn’t. He told him about Shido, about his arrival in Tokyo, his subsequent discovery of the metaverse, and his plot to cozy up to and double-cross the man at the penultimate moment. Akira had said, politely enough, that it was kind of a shit plan, considering how paranoid Goro had described Shido as being, and how, considering the man clearly had no qualms about betraying his allies or sending a teenager out as his personal hitman, he likely planned to off Akechi at the same time, or earlier than Akechi planned to off him.

Goro imagined, in the back of his head, that he’d take offense to that, but it seemed he had cried all the toxic parts of himself out, for the moment at least, and simply agreed that Akira’s logic rang true. It was kind of a shit plan, and he had, admittedly, made it two years ago when he was poor and completely, one hundred percent alone and hated by the world and consumed head-to-toe by fury and vengeance. His life, he noted soberly, had changed in the time sense then, and somehow for the better. Maybe it was time to make a new plan, a smarter one. One that, perhaps, involved Akira and his merry band of thieves as well.

For Akira, after Goro had finished his tale, had responded in kind, telling him about the Phantom Thieves, how his discovery of the metaverse had, strangely and perhaps not so strangely at the same time, practically mirrored Goro’s, and the misadventures since then that led to the present day. He talked about the Velvet Room, about Morgana, explaining, as he did so, exactly how he and his friends had cottoned onto Goro’s knowledge of the metaverse back at their first meeting in the TV studio. Goro was utterly embarrassed about that at first, then Akira had explained, snickering, how he and his friends called him a ‘pleasant little pancake boy’ ever since in honor of the slip up, which infuriated Goro, though not in a truly unpleasant way, he was surprised to nite. Then, Goro had in turn described how shocked he had been when he first heard Akira’s actual voice during the taping the next day, having genuinely thought that Morgana’s high-strung squeak was Akira’s natural tone. They both broke into giggly messes over that, and spent some time trying to imitate the poor creature, cracking each other up as they tried to shoot their voices higher and higher. It was, as stupid as it was, honestly the most fun Goro could remember himself ever having, and he took a mental snapshot of the feeling of just letting himself be a dumb teenager for once, knowing already that he would treasure the memory always.

Eventually, talk turned to the rumbling in both of their stomachs and the paltry state of Goro’s pantry, which Akira berated him for, though not unkindly, and made him blush furiously with the incredibly domestic declaration of wanting to do the shopping and cooking for Goro from now on. Goro called Akira a natural housewife at that, and Akira just beamed, saying he’d be proud to be Goro’s sweet little trophy househusband, doing a sexy little pose as if he was a for-hire maid or something.

While Goro recovered from the near heatstroke that little comment brought on, Akira busied himself with his phone, finding the closest take-out places that would both take orders and deliver this early in the morning, and after Goro offered to pay, the two ordered whatever sounded good from each place Akira found.

Presently, Akira was munching on a piece of toast that he had slathered in some kind of Indian fruit spread on one side, and a spicy Mexican honey on the other, while he rambled on casually in between bites. Goro got the very flattering and yet saddening impression that Akira didn’t get a chance to talk this much around most people, that he only felt comfortable enough to run his mouth around Akechi. It was nice, but at the same time made Goro want to have a very stern talking-to with Akira’s so-called friends about the matter.

Which he might get an opportunity to soon enough, if Akira’s current dissertation was anything to go by. “...I’ll probably call them all over for a Phantom Thieves meeting and introduce you then. It’ll be easiest to bring up Shido if they come over with the mindset of talking about Thieves business, and it’ll be pretty funny to see them react when they see you waiting for them there. Oh god, we should totally have, like, you standing in the back of the attic, and put, like, a drape or blanket over you or something, to hide you, and then once everyone’s there I can say something like ‘We have one more guest joining us today, don’t we, _**DETECTIVE?!?**_ ’ and I’ll play a dramatic stinger sound effect on my phone as you toss off the blanket and stride dramatically into the light, and they’ll all be panicked and confused and flustered and shouting, until Sojiro probably yells at us to shut the fuck up, and then we can tell them what’s actually going on. It’ll be hilarious- a little sadistic, but hilarious-”

Goro was laughing into his coffee halfway through Akira’s speech, charmed by both the imagery and the realization that, yes, Akira gained just as much sadistic pleasure in causing a scene with others as he himself did. It was that combination of warm, sweet feelings and laughing enough to fully let his guard down that brought Goro to interrupt Akira with a soft, giggle-strewn-

“I love you, Akira, oh my god...”

Goro laughed for a bit longer, until he realized that Akira had, for the first time in nearly an hour, gone silent, and he looked up from his mug, a little worried that he had somehow said too much, gone too far-

But then he caught the shimmering, overwhelmed emotion in Akira’s eyes, the hot flush to his face, the wobbly, overcome smile that was blooming on his lips. Akira dropped his toast, and Goro put his coffee down just quickly enough to catch Akira as the black-haired boy tackled Goro out of his chair and onto the ground in a hug.

They kissed, and held tightly to each other, and laughed and smiled and talked the day away.

They were happy, and with the will of the world behind them, they stayed that way.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I've written and successfully published here (or anywhere) in... *checks watch* ...almost two years! Hopefully not the last thing I publish before yet another two year hiatus, but at least this one isn't some multichapter behemoth I'm leaving unfinished once the inspiration runs dry.
> 
> This pulls from a lot of characterizations of Goro and Akira (and I only still use 'Akira' as his name cause it's just what I'm most used to at this point) that I've hc'ed or just grown fond of from the other fics I've read here. Admittedly, it's a little contrived that they'd let so much just slip out at the right time to lead them to exactly where they ended up (ie, Goro's bed) but as long as it's still mostly within character, fuck it, right? What's life without a little pure fun in fiction.
> 
> The last chunk of the fic is mostly because for whatever reason, one of my brain's favorite things to do when I'm tired but still wired enough to not be able to sleep is to, oftentimes, act out different ways Akira and Goro could confess to each other, usually involving some speech like the one Akira gives here. So once I finished writing the sex and such, it just seemed natural to move from there to a bit of spicy impassioned goodness.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and hope even more to post again soon!


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